PopTarts from Scratch
by dirao
Summary: Or The Making of a fluff fic. Lit, Future fic, one-shot. "We have a culinary emergency." "You in the kitchen is the definition of a culinary emergency". Rated K for unbearable kuteness. Drop by and tell me what you thought.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not yet anyhow. Not the bisquick, nor the smuckers. Certainly not the pop tarts.

**Rating: **K for kute.

One-shot, lit. Enjoy.

**Poptarts from scratch**

(the making of a fluff fic)

Jess had promised himself he wouldn't take these jobs, the ones that took him away for stretches of time longer than weekends, because he'd learned that on day three of his business travel plans, something would always go wrong – sometimes horribly wrong - at home.

The first time, Rory's water had broken a full month early. He'd rushed to the hospital in time, ahead of time, three hours into labor with five more to go, but it didn't take away the distinct feeling of danger.

His arrival had managed to calm Rory a bit, just enough to give her the strength to keep pushing, until Laura was born, healthy, tiny.

"Oh, Jess," Rory had said, hours later, sleepily. "I was so scared." They had cried together for what could have happened, they had laughed together at the sight of their healthy baby girl.

So, for the first four years of Laura's life, Jess had never left for longer than a day and a half. Matt had complained, Chris had shrugged. They accepted, grudgingly, that after nearly four years without a personal life, Jess had become a family man.

But after Laura's fourth birthday, Rory had almost pushed him out of the doorway to go further, to scout full weekends, sometimes more. It had been a combination of things. Matt had gotten married, finally, and it was his turn to be family man, leaving

operations wide open so that Jess could take over. And Rory had understood, because it had become time for her to go back to work, for Laura to start kindergarten.

That didn't mean that things ran smoother with him out of the house.

His first weekend away, Laura had eaten a small plastic soldier.

A couple of months later, Rory had slipped on ice while out shopping, when he was about 50 miles away.

The catastrophes had started getting smaller over the years: doctors visits, raspberry on a knee, a dizzy spell, a fender bender, a note from Laura's teacher, a sock eaten by the washer and appearing in the drier a week later. So now, with Laura turning six and school looming in the horizon, it didn't surprise or scare him when his cell phone rang as he made his way back home across the state.

"Are you ok?" he asked, as he answered the phone, as was customary.

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't we be?" Rory answered, knowing full well why that had been his first question. He heard Laura say something on the background, and Rory laughing. "Laura says hey."

"I'll be home in about two hours."

"We have a culinary emergency," Rory admitted.

"You in the kitchen is the definition of a culinary emergency."

He could almost feel her roll her eyes. "We're out of poptarts, and my evil mother had Laura watching the cooking channel the other day, so now she wants me to make Pop Tarts from scratch."

"So, danishes," Jess volunteered.

"Huh?" Rory asked, a perfect imitation of her husband. Jess had to smirk.

"Pop Tarts from scratch are danishes. Or strudel…"

"Don't get all technical on me. I can't make danishes from scratch either. And I'm not sure anyone this side of the Atlantic actually makes strudel."

"Call Sookie."

"She and Jackson went away for the weekend."

"Call Luke," Jess suggested.

"Just tell me how to make them," Rory replied, exasperated.

"Do we have flour at home? Canned cherries?"

He could hear the cabinets on the kitchen opening and closing. "We have bisquick and grape jelly."

Jess couldn't help laughing.

"Jess Mariano, this is not funny."

"Yes, it is," he said, taking the exit to his right. "How about you and Laura go over to Doose's and get the ingredients, and I'll help you when I get home?"

"If I go to Doose's, the temptation to buy the box will be too overwhelming," Rory countered.

"Have them deliver, then, Ror. Look, I gotta hang up, I'm about to hit traffic. Just… hold the fort until I get there? And stay away from the frying pan, ok?"

"Yes, sir," Rory said. Then, really softly, she added, "Hurry home, ok?"

Jess sighed. "I'll be there soon."

- - - - - - - - -

Driving down Orange, he smiled to himself, recalling the conversation he'd had a little earlier. He knew that sometimes Rory called because of genuine emergencies, but some other times she called with these practically-absurd urgent needs because she missed him. It was her way of telling him that she needed him. She'd always been so self-sufficient, it was hard for her to admit that running the house, working and being alone were sometimes overwhelming.

He liked being needed. He liked being able to help, to make the load lighter for her.

It was a well-kept secret that few intuited when gazing upon him for the first time.

Jess Mariano loved being a husband and a father.

He loved putting out his wife's kitchen fires, he loved reading to his daughter until she fell asleep.

He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

From inside, he heard screams and pots and pans falling, and it was all it took for him to rush in while dialing 911.

He opened the door just in time to find both Rory and Laura, pots on their heads, running around tossing flour at each other. Well, bisquick, actually. On the floor around them, frying pans and bisquick and dollops of grape jelly. He stopped dialing.

"Hey!" Rory greeted him, lifting up her 'helmet'. "We decided to start without you."

"Daddy!" Laura yelled, charging at him and bumping her 'helmet' into his leg. He lifted her up and carried her back into the kitchen, while she kissed his cheek and left flour stains on his shirt and jacket.

Jess leaned in to kiss Rory, his wife, and handed her a small brown parcel. "I got you guys something."

Rory didn't have to unwrap it to know what it was.

"Cherry danish?" Rory asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Cherry Pop Tarts, made from scratch," he replied, allowing Laura to place her helmet on his head.

Rory grinned at her daughter. "See, kid? Told you we could make magic with a little Bisquick and Smuckers."

Jess let Laura down so that she could keep running around and pulled his wife in by the waist. "I'll show you magic. From scratch," he quipped, kissing Rory's floury face.

"Threat or promise?" she asked.

"Little of both," he replied.

And as he received a fistful of Bisquick from his daughter, right on the side of his head, Rory raised an eyebrow at him. "I think we should make another one of those," she said, tilting her head towards Laura. "You know… From scratch."

Jess looked at Rory, then at the tyke running around them. "Huh."

"Yeah."

"Well, it IS the one thing you do well in the kitchen," he conceded.

Rory punched his arm. "Shut up. I make a mean box-Poptart."

"Ouch." Jess looked at the mess around him and smiled. "You feed the kid, I'll call Luke to baby-sit. Maybe we can, uh, get baking…tonight."

"Sure thing, Martha," Rory said, winking at him as she raced after Laura.

_fin_

- - - - -

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So I guess this would be my official entryway into fluffdom. Don't worry, although this is a one-shot, I have a lovely M-rated sequel in the works, as far as I know it will also be a one-shot. This is just the fluff that comes up during _The Kid's _dark or blank times. Hope you enjoyed it.

Di


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